I'll Bleed Out For You
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: Derek would die for Stiles. Stiles would die for Derek. Sometimes, the lines of death can be blurred. Sacrifices are made even when they aren't going to change a thing.
1. Ripped Away (from you)

_**I was listening to Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons and this happened.**_

_**Sorry/Not sorry.**_

_**Read on for a total whammy of Sterek feels.**_

* * *

Stiles should have seen this coming. I mean, logically, what really _was _his chance of sneaking into the hunters' base camp without being discovered? None at all. Yep. That's the chance.

"Move it! Quit bein' so slow and move_ it_, boy!" Stiles flinched when Mr Mc'Grouchy Pants (a man who the other hunter, the one who'd spotted him trying to bypass the treeline and into their base camp, had called "Rob"), pushed him forward, knife still pressed into the small of his back; a reminder that if he tried anything silly, he'd be skewered up _real good_._  
_

"Hey, watch the goods. _Fragile _person here, buddy." He winced, not really surprised at all when Rob pressed the knife into the base of his spine. "Ouch! Alright! Just, _ow_, stop with the knife business! I'm listening, okay? Not talking, going to shut up and _listen_... and walk." He muttered the last bit, hissing when he got another press of the knife for being such a smartass (_Nice one, Stiles_), the metal prick of it hard enough to slice through the material of his shirt and cut into the skin of his back.

"Shuddup, boy! Or this knife'll be goin' in your head," Rob snarled, pushing him forward roughly, the force of the push making him stagger slightly and nearly trip over.

Stiles knew better than to snap back a comment to that (he valued his life, thank you very much), so he kept quiet and let Rob lead him to the middle of their camp where three more hunters were sitting by a fire and drinking beers, their rifles laying on the ground beside them. They all looked up, scowls on their faces, when Rob barged up to them with his sorry ass in tow.

"This the kid?" One of the hunters stood up, blue eyes cold and steely as they raked over his body. Stiles instantly knew this was the Chief, the ring leader of the whole group.

"Yessir," Rob answered, much like how a soldier replies to their drill sergeant. Stiles found that amusing, and he must have shown it by smirking or something because Chief turned to him and glared at him like he was a werewolf that was about to get bisected.

"You find this_ funny_, boy?" Stiles shook his head, biting his lip, but was not sure whether if it was still from amusement or fear. "Well then, I'd wipe that damn smug grin off of your face before I tear it off." Yeah. Definitely amusement.

"Wow. You guys really _do _take your hunting seriously. I'm actually starting to see a Doctor Who reference here, man. Like, do you guys take traits from the werewolves you kill? Are you guys actually Sycoraxs in disguise? 'Cause If I'm correct, _werewolves _do most of the tearing."

Yeah. His mouth really does get the wrong sort of work out in situations like this.

He's got Chief pressing a gun to his temple before he can blink; the hunter's finger is held against the trigger, and his eyes are like pure ice when they meet his.

"I suggest you keep that mouth of yours shut, if you know what's good for you." Chief growled in his face, and Stiles could smell the stench of beer that was on his breath. _Rank_. Totally rank.

"Okey dokey, boss. Yessir!" He does a salute, but this only gets him the Chief's finger pressing down on the trigger tightly, jaw straining, like the guy just wants to blow his head off already and be done with it. He _really _doesn't blame 'im. Having _him_ as a hostage can be exhausting, he only knows that from many years of knowing himself. Annoying is Stiles Stilinski's middle name, my friend. No one could forget that. Definitely not Derek.

Derek...

Oh crap. Derek probably doesn't know he's captured. Fuck. Shit. _Dammit_.

"Rob, get this kid outta' my sight before I do somethin' I'll regret," Chief barked. Stiles hears the hunter's affirming "_Yessir_" before he's being pushed forward again, over to a couple of tents that are set up further across the clearing. The knife is still pressed up against his back, and he wonders if Rob has an obsession with the Taken movie series 'cause the way he holds that knife and never lets it go is fuckin' _creepy as shit_.

When they make it over to the tents Rob goes over to the one furthest to the right and opens it up, pushing him in with a hard shove that sends him tumbling down to the ground. "Now you stay right there and don't move a muscle. You move and I stick this knife where you really don't want it," he threatened.

Stiles nodded his understanding, lips twitching despite the deadly position he's in. "Yep, yep, Robby. Gotcha loud an' clear." Rob's eyes do a sort of twitching thing as well, and he spins the knife around in his hand like a swiss army knife. Stiles coughed. "Not moving. Staying still. Got it," he says weakly. The hunter's glare darkens. "So yeah. Um. You can like, go now."

"Oh, I don't think so," Rob says lowly, before sitting down on the ground in front of the tent, preventing any escape plans Stiles had thought out earlier. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, boy."

Stiles doesn't even bother to hold back the groan. "_Perfect_."

"Don't take it too hard, kid. You still might be gettin' ya head blown off tonight," Rob chuckles. And wow, even _Jackson _wasn't this big of a douche.

Stiles just rolls his eyes. "Even _better_."

* * *

Stiles must've fallen asleep sometime because suddenly there's a gruff, very Derek-ish voice whispering his name and hands are shaking him roughly by the shoulders. Then he blinks, and yeah that's no dream. Derek's actually there because his Alpha red eyes are burning brightly in the darkness of the tent and his fangs are out and everything and the hunter with the knife is...

_Shit_.

The hunter with the knife is laying there dead, throat ripped out with brown eyes dull and lifeless, staring at him as blood dribbles out from his parted lips.

"Derek," he hissed, and the Alpha turned to him and scowled, red eyes bleeding out but fangs still staying. "You killed him! Dude, that's like, breaking their code. You broke their code!"

"He was in the way." Derek shrugged like it was a good enough excuse. Stiles frowned. "I had to get to you. He was in the way. Do the maths, Stiles," he snapped.

"But you broke their c-"

Derek's hand was over his mouth before he could make another sound, the werewolf holding a finger to his lips with narrowed eyes and a wild and panicked expression on his face. Kinda like the one where Stiles had accidentally said Derek's name when he'd been in his room and he'd had to lie to his dad to save the werewolf's fugitive ass.

"And you're sure you saw a werewolf 'round here Sam, 'cause if you're pullin' my leg like you always do I'll-"

Stiles held his breath as he heard the footsteps abruptly stop a couple metres away from the tent. Derek was breathing quietly behind him and he could feel the Alpha's breath on the back of his neck; to say it made him feel awkward in his pants was definitely hitting it right on the head. (_Heh_. Hitting it on the head).

"Duh'rek." Stiles' voice was muffled and incoherent under Derek's palm but it got the Alpha's attention. Derek looked down and his eyes flashed from hazel to red and he bared his fangs at him, like a warning to shut up. Stiles sighed, pointing outside then making a throat slitting motion before pointing at Derek and giving him a knowing look.

Derek just shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not kiddin' ya Harry, he was right t-"

Stiles froze.

There was only a moment of silence before the loud shout erupted.

"ROB!"

Stiles heard footsteps pounding against the earth, getting closer, before he saw two human shadowed shapes silhouetted from outside the closed off flap of the tent. Well, at least the tent was closed. That was good.

"Sam, open the tent an' see if the kid's still there. Quickly!"

Stiles gulped.

Okay, maybe not so good.

He turned to Derek to see the Alpha with wide eyes, looking fearful as well. It only lasted a minute though, before the fear seemed to slip off of his face and Derek was looking like he was ready to kick the hunters' asses; all red eyes, fangs and hairiness... oh and no eyebrows. Which was still _weird_.

Stiles prepared himself for the tent's flap to be pulled back, closing his eyes and gripping Derek's arm (he doesn't care if things are weird between them later 'cause of it. He's scared and if he wants to hold onto Derek right now to make himself feel better then he goddamn will), but he's met with...

Silence. Absolute _silence_.

Suddenly, Derek's hand removes itself from his face and the Alpha nods. Wait, what does that mean? He makes a 'what?' gesture with his hands and Derek whispers, "I think they're gone. I can't hear them."

"Oh," he whispers back. "Well, that's great and all but we still need to get out of here."

"I know," Derek snaps. He looks around the tent, red eyes narrowed.

"Well? What are we going to d-"

Derek suddenly tenses and the wild, panicked look flashes across his face. Stiles is about to ask what's the matter when he hears it.

Oh. _Yay_. The hunters are back.

"You thought you saw a werewolf, found Rob dead with his _throat ripped_ _out_, and then didn't even check on the boy!?"

"I-I'm sorry, Rick, but I just thought you'd want to see if the kid's still there yourself."

Stiles scoffed silently. _Rick_. The Chief's name was Rick. Seriously? And to think he'd had a fanboy crush on Alaric from The Vampire Diaries.

"Well you thought _wrong_! Open that tent! Now!"

Stiles felt his heart jack hammer in his chest. Derek must have heard it because the Alpha was now, surprisingly, squeezing his hand and Stiles caught direct contact with his ruby eyes. They were livid. He heard the tent zipper being undone and suddenly air seemed hard to grasp in his lungs.

"I swear, if this kid's gone an' run off I'm-"

The tent flap was yanked open and _Rick _poked his head in and...

...and Derek pounced.

Like, _literally _pounced.

He was in full Alpha form, not like Peter but an actual _wolf__. _Sleek, black and beautiful, with strong, lithe muscles and flaring red eyes.

Derek roared and Stiles watched with wide eyes as he took Rick down, tearing into the hunter's side, snarling and growling. Rick cried out, trying to push the hulk of a wolf off of him, but Derek was too powerful. The Alpha's jaws latched shut over the hunter's throat before snapping down. Stiles flinched when he heard the sharp crack, the sound evident of bones breaking.

"Shit," he muttered, shocked. Rick was dead, his head twisted to the side violently from his neck being broken right down to the bone itself. Stiles could see ripped open flesh and white splinters of bone peeking out from underneath the skin. And blood. _A lot _of blood.

"RICK!

"Fuck! The thing's _massive__!"_

Stiles swore. He'd forgotten about the other two hunters. Sam and Harry? Yeah. Sam and Harry. God, at least one wasn't called Dean. He did _not _need a Supernatural reference there. His fanboy crush with Alaric from The Vampire Diaries already was destroyed and like _hell _he wanted to lose his fanboy crush on Dean Winchester as well.

Oh. _Right_. This wasn't the time to talk about fanboy crushes.

He sees Sam and Harry (ha! One Direction reference. He just realized that), advance towards Derek with rifles loaded and pointed in front of them. Stiles only hopes they aren't filled with wolfsbane bullets becasue if they are then D-"

**_BAM!_**

A shot goes off.

Stiles hears the moment the bullet hits Derek, and when he does he can't help but gasp, hand flying to his mouth in an instant reflex. There's a sickening sound of bullet tearing and entering through flesh, and then a howl as Derek hunches over, making snarly little growling noises deep in his throat as his whole body trembles from what Stiles only presumes is pain.

"_Whew_! Nice one, Harry!" Sam cheered. Stiles felt gutted, literally sick to the stomach as he watched the two hunters fucking _hi-five _while Derek was bleeding out onto the gro-

_Wait_. Bleeding out. Why was he bleeding? No. Why wasn't he _healing_?

"Thanks, Sam. Knew I was doin' good when I packed them wolfsbane bullets this mornin.' Glad they came in handy."

Stiles froze. No. _Nonononono_. He must've made a noise because Sam and Harry turned to him, rifles pointed straight at him.

"Hey, it's that kid who tried sneakin' into camp," Harry snapped.

"Shoot 'im," barked Sam. "He's no use to us, and the world should be better off with one less annoying brat in it."

Stiles swallowed back his fear. "Hey, guys c'mon, are we really going t-"

**_BAM!_** **_  
_**

Another shot rings out.

Stiles' eyes were closed, shut tight. He expected pain to come _any minute now_ because he'd been in the shot range of a _rifle _and that rifle had gone off and he should be feeling _something_, at least a burning flare of pain in his chest and...

...and then there's a snarl.

A fuckin' _familiar _snarl.

Stiles freezes for what feels like the thousandth time that night, and when he opens his eyes he actually believes his heart has _stopped _because...

Because that's Derek standing in front of him, both his front and hind legs trembling with the strain of holding himself up, and Stiles can hear the panted huff of breaths he's wheezing out.

Derek... Derek had just _jumped _in front of him and taken the bullet for him. A wolfsbane bullet. _Two _fucking wolfsbane bullets now. Shit.

"What the fuck!?" Sam yells angrily. He had been the one to take the shot, no doubt.

"Alpha just saved that kid's life," Harry said, face pinched in confusion as he lowered his own rifle. Oh wow. Harry must have had a change of heart. _Ha_. Yeah, right. "Maybe... maybe it wasn't bad after all..."

Stiles felt anger pulse through him at those words. _Wasn't_. Past tense. Like Derek wasn't even _alive _anymore. He was. Fuck, he _was _alive. Derek was...

Derek was swaying, letting out an unearthly whimper before collapsing, hind legs giving up the last of their strength.

"Well, it's too late now. Beast's taken two wolfsbane bullets. It's not gonna last long," Sam said, eyes full of amusement. "Which just leaves us with the talkative brat." He points the rifle at Stiles again and Stiles' throat feels dry, especially when Derek whines and he turns to see the Alpha trying to get up but failing, legs giving out and sending him slumping to the ground.

"Sam, look, it's still trying to help 'im. It cares about the kid." Harry's voice sounds sad, filled with pity. "Come on, Sam, I know you're not that heartless. Leave the boy alone."

Sam glared at his partner, anger flaring in his grey eyes. "You turning into a pussy, are ya Harry?" When Harry doesn't say anything he just laughs, cocking the rifle. "I don't care what you think, Harry, but I'm shootin' this pip squeak."

"Sam, _stop_ this. You have no idea what you're d-"

"Let the kid die with his Alpha, huh? Bet it'll be such a nice, bloody ending to their forever romance," Sam chuckled, completely ignoring Harry to sneer at Stiles.

Stiles held his arms out by his side. "Okay. Fine. Go right ahead, Sammy boy. Shoot me." He turns around in a circle, and when he's facing Sam again he smirks. "Make it a nice head shot, though. Always wanted one. To go out in the blazes of glory."

**_"Stiles... no.."_**

Stiles nearly jumps in shock. _That voice_. He turns to see Derek staring at him with large, blinking ruby eyes. He's whimpering, given up on trying to stand, but the way the wolf just _looks _at him, makes Stiles' heart break.

"Got no choice, Der," he said softly. "This prick's gonna gun me down whether I like it or not. Might as well make it a nice shot." He turns back to Sam, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? You gonna do it or w-"

**_BAM!_**

Stiles gasps, thinks that it's weird the fact that he expected it, yet it feels like such a shock. The pain is a slight ache for a few seconds, like someone had punched him hard in the gut, but then it starts to really _hurt_.

"Ow," he says, hand coming up to mould itself over the gaping bullet wound that's already bleeding out too much blood. He hears Derek whimpering and whining pitifully, and it reminds him of the puppy he'd had when he was eleven before it'd ran away. He makes eye contact with the Alpha to see Derek looking at him with wide, terrified eyes.. and oh my god, _no_, the wolf's ears are matted down on its head in fright and that is _not_ a mental picture Stiles can shake away easily because all he can see is Derek's vulnerable face when he'd killed Boyd and... "_Ow_."

"SAM! You fuckin' _motherfucker_! You shot a _kid_!" Stiles hears Harry yell out, just before something happens that he can't believe.

**_BAM!_**

He stands there, hand against the wound that's taking away all of his life essence, but he's not paying attention to that right now. His mouth's agape as he watches Sam's body fall backwards; there's lifeless grey eyes still open and a clear bullet hole going straight through his forehead, blood dripping from his lips as well as the bullet hole that's in his skull.

"Fuck," he whispers, actually awed. He turns to Harry to see the hunter with his rifle held out in front of him, eyes wide and hands shaking, like he can't believe what he's just done. _Like he can't believe he just shot his best friend_.

"I-I shot..." He blinks, dropping the rifle. "Oh my god. I-I killed him. Sam..."

"Hey, s'alright," he says weakly, and Harry turns to him. He's still got his hand pressed on his wound, but the pain is a lot less now. He feels numb, actually. "No o-offence, but he was a h-horrible best friend. Like, my bro, S-Scott, he's a good b-"

Stiles doesn't know what happens, to be honest. One minute he's standing and telling Harry about Scott, and the next he's on his knees, eye sight wavering in and out of focus. Black, then white, then back to normal. He hears Derek whine, but it's soft. Softer than it should be. Fuck. He knows what that means.

"H-Hey, kid, you - you alright?" He blinks up, nearly getting whiplash when he sees Harry standing above him. Shit. How did he get there that fast?

"Y-Yeah," he murmured, coughing. He screws his face up when he tastes blood, and he spits some out on the ground beside him. "C-Could you move me over - over to Derek? P-Please," he asks weakly. "Don't have the st-strength to get there on my o-own right now."

Harry looks over Stiles' shoulder, and his eyes look pained. "Derek? That - that was his name?" His voice sounds like people do when they're giving their condolences at a funeral.

Stiles squints his eyes, lips twitching in a frown. "No - no Derek _is _his name. Der-Derek's over there, dying, n' I n-need to get o-over to him. Won't let 'im die a-alone. W-Won't.." He sways, knees not able to keep him upright, but before he slumps forward Harry catches him.

"Hey, easy there kid. Hey. Kid. Kid? Kid!"

Stiles feels his heartbeat slowing, can hear the soft thumping beats in his own skull. He can feel arms holding him, and can hear a voice (Harry. Ah, good ol' Harry Styles... No. Not Harry Styles. Harry the _hunter_), and suddenly his whole body feels light, like a feather.

From where he's laying, in Harry's arms, if he moves his head a bit to the side, he can see what's in the distance in front of him a few metres away. He can see Derek.

The Alpha's not a wolf anymore, but human. His skin's pale and clammy, ghostly white, much like when he'd been shot in the arm by Kate Argent with the wolfsbane bullet. His hair's matted with dirt and some of it is sticking up while some of it is stuck to his forehead. And his eyes, _god_, his eyes are still open. They're staring at him, and Stiles can still see them from all the way where he is. Hazel, but not much anymore. More like light, lifeless jade, and they're...

Stiles closes his eyes. Won't - _can't_ look at Derek when he's like that. Dead on the ground with no colour in his skin, no life in his eyes, and black inky poison tracing veiny lines up his chest, fanning out like a tattoo over the spot where his heart is. It's too much.

But as he feels the air in his lungs explode out in a whoosh, as he feels his heart give its last few little _tha-thump's_, he finds himself opening his eyes once more just to catch a glimpse of Derek's. His vision fades out only seconds later, turning blurry around the edges until everything is just a haze of white and black and grey.


	2. Together Again

_**This is a happy ending that was requested By DJDarkPixie who was left reeling from the angst of last chapter. This is for you! I hope you enjoy :)**_

* * *

Stiles has never really believed in the thing called Life after Death. To him, when you died you died and that was that. You were buried under the ground or cremated into ashes, your loved ones forever wishing you were still alive, breathing and living. So something silly like Life after Death was just that. Silly. It was silly to think that after you'd died you would be able to live again. _Again_. Like your first life was only just the beginning. So, so silly were the fools who put their trust in the belief of Life after Death.

Well he must be the silliest fool out of all of them now, huh?

When Stiles had died he'd expected to be just that. _Dead_. Long gone. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, or whatever the hell you wanna call it. What he _hadn't _expected was to awake to birds twittering harmoniously—because seriously. Death had_ birds _now? And since when was death anything but _harmonious_?

Stiles' eyes fluttered open and what he saw actually made him reconsider the thing called Death. _Am I really dead or this a dream? _he thought, blinking up at the clear blue sky above him. So death had no clouds either. Well, that was just brilliant. Parents telling their young kids that Heaven was filled with fluffy white clouds and singing angels and all that crap. And the reality? Blue sky and annoyingly chirpy birds. _Unbelievable_.

"Welcome to paradise," he muttered and slowly stood up, hissing a little when his legs were a bit flimsy and nearly buckled underneath him. When he was sure his balance was well adjusted enough to keep him from tumbling to the ground, he let himself observe what little piece of Hell he'd been transported to.

Apart from the blue sky above him that carried on for miles there was an interesting hue of mist farther into the distance that was cloaking what was beyond. He walked forward, into the direction of the mist even given how creepy he thought it was. There was something way over yonder, he knew. Which is why his curiosity got the better of him and which was what led him past the misty barrier.

"Holy mother of-" Stiles gasped, all thoughts unable to process when he saw what was in front of him that had been hidden beyond the wispy white smog.

It was like Heaven.

Fresh green grass grew everywhere, swaying to an invisible breeze that Stiles couldn't feel. Flowers of all different shapes, sizes and colours grew from the grass too, bees buzzing and butterflies flittering around them. There was a huge, big oak tree in the middle of the clearing and its leaves were like emerald diamonds growing from the overhanging branches. It reminded Stiles of the talking tree in Pocahontas, the story his mom used to read to him before bedtime when he was a young boy. Also, Stiles could see something beyond the oak tree. Something big, something white, something that looked like a…

Stiles' eyes widened when he realized what it was. He'd seen it before. A burnt down, black charcoaled ghost of the way it had once been. The Hale house. He was looking at the Hale house in the distance, and it looked exactly like it had before the fire had demolished it of its beauty.

The door cracked opened suddenly. Someone was coming out of the house. There were actually people in there. _The Hale family. Oh my g- the Hale family must live here_, Stiles thought happily, waiting for the person to step out and show themselves. Who would it be? Laura? Derek's mother? Derek's father? Maybe it would be Peter's wi-

"Oh. My. God." Stiles felt his knees go weak and his mouth go dry, tears flooding his eyes, making the person's features a tad blurry. But there was no mistaking who it was.

Black hair, jade eyes and five o'clock shadow.

"_Derek…_"

Stiles was running before he even realized his feet were moving. The wind that had been invisible before was now blowing through him full force, whipping past him as his legs propelled him forward towards the love of life.

As Stiles got closer and closer Stiles could see him. Derek was smiling—no, _grinning_—standing on the steps of the Hale house, waiting for him. When Stiles was close he walked down the steps, covering the last few paces so when Stiles reached him they collided.

Stiles instantly wrapped his arms around him, burying his head into Derek's neck and breathing in the scent of leather, mint and spicy cologne that the older man always smelled of. He couldn't help but release out a small sob, tightening his grip on the werewolf and letting the relief wash over him.

Derek was _alive_.

_They _were alive.

Maybe the thing called Life after Death wasn't that so hard to believe, after all.


End file.
